


As The Crow Flies

by MsJones



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Based on a Tumblr Post, Canon Divergence, F/M, I apologise, Oral Sex, Season 1, What Was I Thinking?, What-If, slightly fluffy I guess, stepmom/stepson action
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-10
Updated: 2014-12-10
Packaged: 2018-02-28 22:44:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2749865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsJones/pseuds/MsJones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Catelyn Stark has been distant with Jon Snow throughout his whole life, not just because he is her husband’s bastard son. Now he is leaving for the Night’s Watch, the time has come for her to reveal her true feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As The Crow Flies

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own or profit from Game of Thrones or any relevant characters, which remain the property of George R.R. Martin.

Catelyn Stark hesitated outside the door. She knew that behind this particular door of her grand household, her husband’s bastard son, Jon Snow, was packing for the long journey to the North Wall, for he had decided to join the Night’s Watch, and dedicate the rest of his life to protecting the folk of the Seven Kingdoms from the dangers in the frozen wasteland beyond that Wall.

She remembered that Summer morn, the seemingly endless Winter finally coming to an end – more than twenty years ago, now – when her husband, Eddard Stark, returned from a long, drawn-out, two year battle, with a little bundle of warmth in his arms.

“My son,” he had announced solemnly.

Yes, she had heard. In a moment of madness on the eve of a particularly fearsome battle, convinced he would never see his wife again, Ned had bedded a young woman who had been offering herself to any knight, squire, stable-hand, who would cross her path. He had possibly been egged on by his best friend, Robert Baratheon – as well as alcohol, no doubt – Catelyn had thought, resentfully. However it had happened, and that woman had become pregnant with Lord Stark’s child

The moment she gently pulled back the swaddling blankets and saw the babe, with a shock of black hair, fast asleep, she felt a simultaneous rush of love, and a stab of jealousy. The tiny lad was such a helpless young thing, and so beautiful, too, yet he was also the symbol of her husband’s infidelity. She wondered, as she gingerly took the infant from her husband, cradling him protectively, trying to convince herself to love the child, was his mother beautiful? More so than her? She was aware of the adage that war did terrible things to many a man’s mind, but... Ned had sworn to love, protect, and be true to her. They already had a son, young Robb, was that not enough for him, she had thought angrily. The thought of smothering the child so she no longer had to deal with these thoughts crossed her mind, (infants died all the time for no reason, she tried to convince herself) but she reasoned this would make matters worse. It would look suspicious, the _bastard_ son of her husband passing away in _her_ care. It would end her marriage to Lord Stark, possibly her life, for he would blame her for the young lad’s death. She therefore spared him.

Those thoughts did not leave her, though. As he grew from a babe she began to hate him, she saw the eyes of a stranger looking back at her, expecting love and affection. She began to wish harm on the little lad, wanted him to die. Not long after these thoughts consumed her, the lad took a fever, the doctors saying that he may pull through, but only if he could make it through the night. Catelyn had been beside herself with guilt, and had nursed the lad through the night, listening to his coughing, wheezy, unsteady breathing, his whimpers of pain. She prayed to all the Gods she could recall that the poor boy would survive, squeezing his hand, and wiping his brow, tears coursing down her cheeks.

Thankfully, the Gods had been merciful that night. As time went on, she watched young ‘Jon Snow’ as his father named him (she was glad he had not bestowed the Stark name on him, that was too much for her to bear!) grow up, and was blessed with four more children of her own. Sansa, Arya, Bran and Rickon, on whom she doted, along with Robb, so Jon was pushed into the background. The lad didn’t seem to mind, he preferred hunting in the woods with his father, anyway. However, as she watched him grow from a self-imposed distance, it was impossible for her to not notice how sweet and caring he was towards his half-siblings. He had shared a room with Robb for the past fifteen years; he would always comfort Sansa when she was scared after her occasional nightmares; he allowed Arya to join him and Robb on expeditions with Ned when she showed a keen interest in hunting, and had recently presented her with her first real sword. He had taught young Bran how to use a bow and arrow, and had hardly left the poor crippled lad’s bedside after his nasty, and suspicious, fall from the castle walls. Jon’s help when Rickon came along had been invaluable, he had ended up delivering the child whilst the nursemaid was in her sick bed, and he had shown maturity and wisdom well beyond his then eighteen years. Yet still, she kept her distance, only now it was for an entirely different reason.

Now that he was older, and a lot more independent, Catelyn found herself admiring the lad. Loving him, perhaps. No _,_ she thought, the maternal instinct was never there. It was something deeper. Something that should never be spoken of. Something she needed to act upon before he set off, and she never saw him again. It had been burning inside of her for quite a while now.

Nervously, she tapped on the door. “Jon,” she called gently. She heard the familiar bark of Ghost, Jon’s direwolf he had nurtured from an abandoned pup.

A few seconds later, the door creaked open, Jon poked his head from behind it. “What’s wrong, Mother?” he asked.

Thinking on her strange feelings, a hot blush crossed across Catelyn’s face. Whilst it was true that she was the only mother he had known, she knew this was a false title, and, given her situation (dare she even think it, in _love_ with this bastard child!), she was a little embarrassed to be addressed as such. “Nothing’s wrong,” she stammered, “on the contrary, everything is fine.” She paused. “May... may I come in?” She mentally chided herself for stammering and hesitating, it would only draw suspicion.

Smiling ironically, Jon swung the door fully open. “Glad to see the back of me, eh?” he said wryly. “Your husband’s bastard son, whom you have always resented?”

Catelyn’s eyes widened a little, shocked by Jon’s cavalier attitude. “Not at all,” she said softly. “I just... I had something to give you, that’s all.”

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed, Mother,” Jon sighed. “You have always treated me differently. Everybody, even little Rickon knows I am not the same as he. Yet _they_ treat me like family. You, however...”

“Close the door,” Catelyn said calmly. “There are a few things we need to discuss.” She glanced at Ghost, who was lying by Jon’s bed, golden eyes scoping her incredulously. “Alone.”

Jon huffed out a frustrated breath and turned to the hound. “On guard!” he commanded, and the wolf abandoned his position and slunk past the pair, sitting obediently just outside the door, which Jon shut behind him. “Listen... Catelyn,” he continued diplomatically. “I have known, from a very early age, that you are not my true mother. Yet I strived to love you as a son should. I was dutiful, respectful... by the Gods,  I even brought Rickon into this world. Still...”

Catelyn, astonished that Jon had called her by her first name, reached out and gently touched Jon’s hand. Surprised by how soft his skin was, she gasped slightly. “I came...” she said, recovering, noticing that Jon had not pulled away from her contact. “I came to apologise. For all those years I stood by and did nothing, treated you as an outcast. I never meant to...”

“Of course you didn’t,” Jon interrupted incredulously. “Just like the whole of Winterfell mocks me for being the bastard son of Ned Stark, not worthy to hold his name. Did you ever stop and think how I might feel? Having to deal with the barbs from my own... caregiver?”

“All the time,” Catelyn replied, giving Jon’s hand a squeeze. “I could never imagine how difficult it must have been for you. That’s why I understand your decision. The reason you are leaving Winterfell.”

Jon shook his head, a few hanks of his curly black hair hanging in his face; Catelyn resisted the urge to brush them away as he smirked sardonically back at her. “Please,” he huffed, “stop pretending you understand me. You never liked me, hated me on sight. I bet you wanted me smothered the moment you set eyes on me, to relinquish your little problem, the subject of your husband’s infidelity.”

Catelyn blanched slightly. _How did he know?_ Regaining her composure, stepping a little closer to Jon, she continued. “What drew you to that conclusion?” she asked earnestly.

“Oh, please,” Jon snarled. “That’s how it always is. Folk always want the weak, sickly, crippled, _bastards_ , drowned at birth. They don’t want to have to deal with the little problems the runts might cause later. They can’t handle a little inconvenience.”

His words hurt, like a white-hot sword from the blacksmith’s forge, straight through her stomach, but Catelyn knew had every right to say them. She was well aware that this was true, or what dear, sweet, kind-hearted Jon, perceived to be true. “That’s wrong!” she countered foolishly, in a high, fragile voice.

Jon frowned, narrowing his eyes. Catelyn stared back at him, noticing how beautiful his eyes actually were; big brown orbs, usually full of love and affection, affected a little by fury, still beautiful, nonetheless. She gasped, flinching as Jon raised his hand to push some of his thick lustrous hair behind his left ear.

“I wasn’t going to hit you, woman,” he growled, noticing that Catelyn still had a loose hold of his hand; he did not, though, pull away. “Despite all you’ve put me through, I would never do that.” He smiled slightly. “I love you, in a strange way,” he admitted.

Catelyn put her free hand to her chest, feeling her heart flutter. Jon had _never_ said that he loved her. She swallowed heavily, glancing at her husband’s son with a renewed interest.

“Are you quite well?” Jon enquired, eyes widening with concern.

Catelyn nodded, bringing her hand from her breast to brush against Jon’s cheek. He was starting to grow a small crop of facial hair, the beginnings of a beard; it made him look quite handsome. “Yes,” she whispered, running her fingers along the line of Jon’s jaw, allowing the soft hair to tickle her small, slender fingers. “I am... quite all right.”

“Good,” Jon growled, in a voice that made Catelyn’s knees tremble slightly; she grabbed Jon’s shoulder to steady herself. “So,” Jon continued, ignoring his step-mother’s odd behaviour. “You said you had something to give me.”

Catelyn smiled. This was her chance. “Indeed I do,” she purred, tugging on Jon’s hand, leading him towards his bed. “Come, sit,” she encouraged him.

Jon did as he was bidden, yet he eyed Catelyn with surprise and uncertainty. “What’s got into you?” he questioned her with amusement.

“It occurred to me,” Catelyn began, “that I may never see you again, after tonight.” She paused, tangling her fingers with Jon’s. “And I feel that I owe you an explanation... as to why I have treated you so shabbily... neglected you.” She shifted herself slightly on the mattress, so she was facing her step-son.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Jon argued, pulling the corners of his pretty lips downward.

“The truth may shock you, Jon,” Catelyn announced. “These past few years... have been very difficult between your father and I... so much strife and conflict which we are only just beginning to resolve.”

“Of course,” Jon snorted derisively.

“Not _just_ quarrels with the Lannisters, among others,” Catelyn stated boldly, “but there has been some tension between us... personally... not just stemming from the past... but recent matters...” Aware she was talking in circles, Catelyn paused. “It doesn’t help that I have been drawn to another.”

Jon’s brow furrowed. “Another?” he asked curiously. He certainly wasn’t aware of any other men taking Catelyn’s attention. She seemed her normal, stoic, cold, distant self. Perhaps it was that Lannister gent, the small one. Tyrion, was it? Despite his diminutive stature, Jon had seen for himself that the youngest of Tywin’s children, could unquestionably charm the ladies. Had he wheedled his way into his father’s wife’s affections? Or was it the tall, thin, slimy-looking Lord Baelish, named ‘Littlefinger’ for some reason. He had been sniffing round Catelyn recently; Jon thought it very suspicious.

“Now I understand why, and how, your father would stray,” she sighed. “Something I have berated him for over twenty years... and now I am tempted to do the same.” She paused. “Perhaps I shouldn’t be so hard on him.”

Jon nodded. “Perhaps you shouldn’t,” he agreed, a steely harshness in his voice. Only now, this last night under the same roof as her, was she beginning to understand him, and how he felt, and why his father had taken the path that he did. “You should tell him. Be honest with him, for once.”

Jon’s turn of phrase disturbed Catelyn, but she did not falter. “Alas, I cannot,” she sighed.

Rolling his beautiful dark eyes Catelyn admired so much, Jon shook his head. “And why might that be?” he asked sarcastically.

“Because,” Catelyn inhaled sharply through her nose, gathering her strength for what she was about to admit. She shuffled a little closer to Jon, allowing her leg to make slight contact with his. “This is going to sound very odd, but...” Her right hand reached for Jon’s left knee. “It is you.”

Jon’s scowl became more pronounced. “I beg your pardon?” he spat, his voice sounding much higher than normal.

“It’s true,” Catelyn continued, beginning to feel a lot braver now that her revelation was out in the open. “I did dislike you, resent you, when you were a wee lad,” she continued, secrets now pouring out as if they were water from her eyes. “But as you grew up, became the man that is sitting before me, I began to admire you... love you... but not in the way a mother should...” She bit her lip, noticing that Jon was keenly watching her every move. “I had to keep that side of me hidden... so I distanced myself from you... so no one would know... even suspect... my feelings for you.”

“Impossible,” Jon uttered. “Just... impossible.” He stared back at the woman by his side, who was clutching his hand possessively. He gave her hand an experimental squeeze, and felt her shudder. “Catelyn... how long has this been going on?”

Catelyn paused, not sure what to say for once. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “All I know is... this is wrong... so wrong... yet I can’t help my feelings... I want you in ways I should never imagine.”

With fire in his eyes, Jon glared dangerously at Catelyn, noticing a tear run down her left cheek, Tenderly, he brushed it away with his thumb. “You know,” he said calmly. “I find that very hard to believe.” He leaned closer to Catelyn, anticipating.

“Please believe me, Jon,” she quavered, her right arm reaching around Jon’s waist. With that, she brought her lips to his, planting a slow, soft kiss upon the man she had brought up like a son.

Jon felt Catelyn tremble against him as she kissed him, so he put his arms around her, and hugged her comfortingly, allowing her to take whatever strange comfort she wished. She was upset, he reasoned, and confused. It would not do to turn away a distressed woman, particularly one he had been taught to accept as family, even if she didn’t reciprocate.

“It’s all right,” he whispered as she broke the kiss. He glanced at her, smiling, noticing she was smiling in return. She really was very pretty, with her neatly braided, dark red hair, her high cheekbones, and porcelain skin, a little flushed right now. No wonder his father chose to wed her.

“Thank you, Jon,” she whispered, pulling him closer. “Now do you understand?”

In all honesty, Jon was even more confused. Why would such a resentful, aloof woman, suddenly want this sort of affection from him, of all people? Was something wrong? If so, was there some sort of conflict between her and Father? He understood that women were an emotional breed (he had seen his sisters – Sansa in particular – in tears over what he saw as virtually nothing at all, countless times), but this was a most strange approach. He would never understand them, and he wasn’t going to get the opportunity to do so, either, so what was the point in trying?

“It seems he doesn’t,” Catelyn answered herself, allowing her lips to touch Jon’s once more, her fingers entangling themselves in his already messy curls. Noticing that Jon wasn’t returning the favour, she broke away slightly and nipped his bottom lip gently with her teeth. “Come on,” she whispered. “Indulge me.”

Jon had only ever been this far with one girl before, a red-haired courtesan he had agreed, at least at first, to let her take his virginity. However, knowledgeable of the purposes of sex, and aware of the consequences, he had turned tail and fled. What if he had impregnated the poor lass with his own bastard child? What sort of world would it be born into? He couldn’t let that happen to anyone else, knowing the life of a bastard was a poor one. Now his own step-mother was lavishing intimate attention upon him, and he was still trying to figure out why. Nevertheless, he pursed his lips, softening them, and pulled Catelyn as close to him as he dared. He tried not to jump as he felt Catelyn’s wet tongue probe into his mouth.

“Jon,” Catelyn sighed as she broke from the kiss, stroking his cheek.

“Catelyn,” Jon answered, smiling back at the woman who had been his mother for the past twenty-one years.

Catelyn smiled devilishly back at the young man. God, the way he spoke her name made her experience things that Ned had _never_ made her feel. “I want you so much,” she whispered. “Lie down. Please,” she added as he hesitated.

Obediently, Jon lay upon his bed, and watched as Catelyn settled herself beside him. She reached over and started stroking his hair.

“Such a handsome young man,” she whispered. “Why don’t the girls flock to you?”

Jon shrugged as he felt Catelyn’s hand reach for the fastenings of his shirt. “Never really looked,” he answered dismissively.

Catelyn gave him a sweet smile. “Don’t tell me you don’t like girls,” she said with a sigh as she continued to unfasten Jon’s clothes.

Jon shook his head. “No, no, I do,” he answered quickly. “It’s just that...” He paused, allowing Catelyn to help herself to his lips once more. “I’d like to get to know the girl before... anything... happens.” He sighed, thinking it was a moot point, since he was about to devote his life to a cause that forbade marriage, and the bearing of children. “It doesn’t really matter now, does it?”

“Of course,” Catelyn said, grimacing before placing a teasing kiss on Jon’s cheek. “In any case, I just wanted you to experience the love of a good woman... at least once.”

This time it was Jon’s turn to blush. “But Catelyn,” he said, trembling. “What if I...”

Catelyn silenced him with a deep kiss on his lips. “Do not worry about a thing, Jon,” she whispered into his ear. “Just... enjoy the moment.” She allowed her lips to trace his jaw, her tongue touching his chin, trailing down to his neck.

“Uhh...” Jon grunted as he felt gentle teeth upon his throat. He arched his back to get closer to the woman, who had completely undone the top half of his clothing, and was impatiently unlacing his breeches. “Catelyn...” he whimpered desperately, knowing he should stop the woman, but allowing her to continue through perverse curiosity. “Really... Why... are you doing this?”

Catelyn eyed Jon curiously. “Do you wish for me to stop?” she asked, pulling his loosened shirt from his shoulders, exposing his bare chest. She smiled as Jon shook his head. “I’m doing this... because...” Unable to think of a plausible reason apart from her own needs, she reached down, embracing Jon, kissing him again. His lips were irresistible, soft and pretty, especially nice when he returned her kiss.

Jon sat up to shake himself out of his sleeves, whilst Catelyn helped herself to his exposed nipples. He sucked in his breath as she scratched her teeth playfully against his sensitive skin. “Oh... Catelyn... Catelyn...” he groaned, feeling his step-mother’s neat, but sharp nails trail sharply down his torso.

Catelyn smirked down at Jon, who was shaking. With cold? With pleasure? With... fear? “My sweet lad,” she whispered. “What’s wrong?” She drank in the sight of his toned, athletic body, strong, muscular arms, a few scars from sparring injuries sustained over the years.

“Nervous,” Jon stammered quickly, wanting more gentle torture from her hands, and teeth. He was worried. What if he couldn’t satisfy her, the way... other men could. He tried to keep his father out of his mind; it was making him feel worse. It was clear she wanted him, and he didn’t want her to regret her decision.

“Don’t be,” she whispered, delicately tracing the lines of his collarbones. “Jon?”

“Hmm?”

“Say my name again,” Catelyn said, with a giggle. “I love the way you say my name.”

Jon gave her an amused look. “Is that so, Catelyn?” he asked, a wickedness in his voice that Catelyn had never heard before. He curled an arm around her shoulders, pulling her down to meet him. “Tell me why that might be, Catelyn?”

Catelyn felt herself shudder. The object of her affection was calling her by her name, rather than... She tried not to think of herself as his mother; that had never worked out too well. She blushed as she felt Jon fumble with her dress.

“Or should I say... Lady Stark?” Jon corrected himself, a naughty glint in his eye. He grabbed Catelyn tight as she leaned to kiss him. Only this time when their lips met, she felt Jon’s tongue slip into her mouth. He was getting brave!

“Jon Snow,” she murmured breathlessly as they pulled away. “I have known you since you were a tiny baby, yet I never knew how much you would come to mean to me.” She felt herself blush, knowing that at some times, she had been most unkind to the young man, who was now half-naked, holding her in a caring embrace, shyly trying to disrobe her. She wanted this, every moment of it. “I...” She took a breath. “I love you... so, so much.” Her hand reached keenly between his legs, lingering there, rubbing suggestively through his clothes.

Jon sighed. “Yes...” he whispered hoarsely. Up until this point, he had worried about getting caught. What if Robb walked in, looking for something he had left in this room? Or worse, what if Father heard something, and came to investigate? Jon pushed his worries to the back of his mind; the pleasure was beginning to outweigh any concerns he had. Besides, faithful Ghost was guarding the door.

Catelyn’s dress slipped from the upper half of her body, revealing her breasts, nipples awoken by a gentle touch. The flesh around them was no longer supple, the pale skin marked with veins and scars, and Catelyn, embarrassed at her naked appearance, bought a protective arm in an attempt to cover herself, but Jon stopped her, bringing her arm to his bare shoulder. He still thought her beautiful.

“It’s okay,” he reassured her, knowing full well that those breasts had fed five infants. “You’re gorgeous.” He smiled kindly, stroking the puckered flesh. “Does your husband not tell you so... Catelyn?”

Catelyn felt her face grow rather hot. It had been a while since Lord Stark had said such things of her; years, in fact. She did not let this fact be known to Jon, he would never believe her. Besides, every time the young lad said her name, she felt herself get more and more excited. She bit back a squeal of surprise as Jon help himself to her aged tits, licking and sucking them, as if he had never tasted anything so good. Catelyn relaxed for a while, letting young Jon enjoy her, until she could not stand it any longer. Tugging her dress all the way down, and sliding off her undergarments, she found herself kneeling naked, over Jon, who looked at her in stunned awe.

“Catelyn,” he breathed, knowing how much she loved her name on his lips. “You have me under your spell.” He began fumbling with his breeches, tugging them down impatiently, keen to bare himself to the woman kneeling over him, who was ready to pounce. He slipped out of  his undershorts, revealing himself, hard and ready, to Catelyn, who licked her lips, and reached hungrily for it.

As he felt Catelyn’s devilish finger brush the underside of his cock, he whimpered. Nobody but he had ever touched his private parts before; it felt strange, but so good. He longed for more as Catelyn stroked it, her soft, nimble fingers tickling it all over. “Catelyn!” he cried, wrapping his arms around her, grabbing for her naked bottom pushing her closer to his need. “Please. I can’t stand it any longer!”

Catelyn flashed the most evil, yet sexiest, smile she had ever given anyone. She gazed pitilessly down at Jon as she absent-mindedly toyed with his balls. His face was contorted with discomfort, jaws clenched as he gritted his teeth. “What would you have me do, young lad?” she asked in her sweetest voice.

Jon stared desperately up at the older woman, his eyes wide with hunger. “Don’t... don’t make me beg, Catelyn...” he whispered. “Please... I want you...” He had pushed all his bitterness aside for this woman’s pleasure, and had found her quite the frustrating, but amazing, lover, not that he had much to compare her too; a few smooches with some of the pretty girls in the village, and that misguided encounter with the flame-haired prostitute. “Take my innocence... you need it more than I...” He dragged his tongue languidly across his plump lips. “Lady Stark,” he finished huskily.

Catelyn shuddered, leaned down, and kissed Jon harshly. The way he had growled her formal title in that low, sexy voice, cracked with anguish, made her crazy. Taking a hold of his hardness, warm and smooth in her hand, she guided the young man’s desperation inside the centre of her need.

Jon groaned rhythmically as Catelyn rocked against him, the tip of his solid cock brushing against something soft, warm and moist. “Ohh... Catelyn... Catelyn...” he sighed, holding the woman steady, warm hands on her hips, stroking the outside of her buxom thighs.

Catelyn put a finger to her lips and winked. “Shush,” she hushed him gently. “I’m sure you don’t want to get caught.”

In all honestly, Jon did not care whether the whole of Winterfell heard them. He wanted the world to know that he had the unobtainable Lady Catelyn Stark, wife of the King’s Hand, in between his legs. He realised, as a gentle hand brushed over the back of his neck, he had a duty to protect her good name; it would not do to have her caught in a compromising position with the bastard son of her husband. So he kept as quiet as he could, eliciting little sighs as a show of appreciation for his pleasure, moving his hips in time with Catelyn’s movements.

“Jon...” Catelyn sighed. “Are you sure... you haven’t done this... before?” she asked, swallowing the primal grunts she longed to make, fingering her own nipples, taking long, juddering breaths.

Jon shook his head as he bucked against the older woman. “Quite sure,” he answered. “Quite sure, Catelyn.” He grabbed her wrists, and placed her hands on his shoulders, sliding his own hands  up her arms, until he reached her breasts, where he played his fingers softly.

Laughing softly, Catelyn ran her hands through Jon’s hair, surprised at how silky it was, she allowed his curls to tangle round and brush against her fingers. She looked into his wide dark eyes, pupils dangerously dilated, noticed his cute, perfect nose (she leaned down and placed a tiny kiss upon it), and watched as he breathed heavily through parted lips, his tongue occasionally flicking over them. He was so adorable, and she wished she could spend the rest of eternity like this, engaged in blissful union, fucking mercilessly on this bed of his. The perfect revenge on her philandering husband; having a torrid, toxic affair with the... consequence. She knew she should let it go, it was over twenty years ago, but even after all these years, she feared that, every time Ned touched her, he was thinking of... her. How could she leave such a deed unpunished? Jon needn’t know why she had given herself so readily to him; it would only upset him. He was devoted to the man, much more than her. Then, why had he agreed to this? Was there a chance that he secretly loved her too, or was she just misreading things, and taking advantage of the poor lad? He was certainly not naïve, far from it, and not suggestible at all. His mind was clear, as far as she could tell, or was the worry, excitement, fear, of his new calling in life clouding his judgement? Or was he just fucking her out of a sense of duty, since she had made the move on him, who was he to stop her? She heard him suck in his breath between his back teeth. “Is something wrong?” she whispered tenderly.

“Catelyn...” Jon groaned urgently. “Catelyn... stop... stop... please... I’m about to...” He was silenced with Lady Stark’s moist, experienced mouth on his own, muting the groans he made through his orgasm. He wrapped his arms around her as she relaxed against him. Feeling strands of her auburn hair tickle his shoulders, he brushed them away carefully, allowing Catelyn to rest her head upon his chest, nestling under his chin. Realising what he had done, he sighed. “I’m sorry,” he breathed.

“Please, Jon,” Catelyn murmured, reaching for his hand, clutching it tightly. “Don’t be.” Then an awful thought crossed her mind. “You don’t... regret what has just passed between us?” she asked, glancing up at him with frightened eyes.

“Of course not,” Jon said reassuringly, placing a kiss at the top of Catelyn’s head. “I just... I don’t...” He shook his head. “What if you should fall pregnant?”

Catelyn smiled, and shifted in his arms so that she was nestled next to him, head snuggled into the crook of his shoulder. “Oh Jon... dear sweetheart,” she cooed. “I must say this old body is far too decrepit to carry any more children.” She kissed his cheek, then sat up to pull the blankets over them, before draping one arm across his chest, snaking the other arm around his shoulders.

“When was the last time I held you like this?” she mused, stroking his firm chest. “You were little more than a babe in arms.” She gave Jon a sleepy smile. “Now look at you. All grown up and leaving home.” She sniffed, and blinked back tears.

Jon allowed himself a chuckle. “Oh, Catelyn,” he sighed, showing her a rare, genuine smile. “Don’t upset yourself.” He hugged her tight to him, kissing her forehead softly. “I’m so sorry,” he repeated.

Catelyn smiled and kissed Jon tenderly. “You have nothing to apologise for, my darling,” she whispered.

“Yes. Yes I have,” Jon argued gently. “I have treated you horribly, just because you were not my true mother.” He brushed some of Catelyn’s hair out of her face.

Catelyn shook her head. “No,” she whispered. “It is I that should be sorry. _I_ have treated you... so badly.”

Jon smiled, swallowing his agreement. Catelyn had hardly been the best parent to him, only tolerating him to keep the peace with his father. Yet tonight, he felt differently about her, suddenly sorry he was leaving her behind. Oh, how a lot could change in an hour or so. “Well,” he whispered huskily. “You have... certainly made up for that tonight.”

Catelyn felt Jon’s hand stroke down her side, along her stomach, onto her hip. “I’m glad you think that,” she said, brushing her fingers on Jon’s cheek, feeling his hand was squeezing its way between her thighs. “But I know nothing can make up for a... life of regret.” Her breath hitched as Jon’s fingers pressed up against her entrance, still wet from their encounter.

“I wish there was something I could do,” Jon mused, as he experimentally tickled Catelyn, “to make everything okay between us.”

“Maybe there is,” Catelyn sighed dreamily. “Just keep... doing what you’re doing...”

“Very well,” Jon said, blushing a little. He hadn’t realised how much Catelyn liked this sort of attention. He recalled something Robb had told him about a few years back, something he had done with the blacksmith’s daughter; it had made the sixteen-year-old Jon blush. Yet being here with Catelyn, uncovered both physically and emotionally, he began to understand why Robb would want to do something like that to a woman. He placed a kiss on Catelyn’s soft red lips, and let his own mouth slowly trail down her chin, her neck, and as he delicately pulled back the covers with his free hand.

Catelyn shivered, crossing her arms over her body as Jon nuzzled her stomach. “What... what are you doing?” she asked nervously, as Jon’s lips found the fleshy skin of her inner thighs, teeth daring to nibble at her, making her shudder even more.

Jon looked up, giving her a concerned look with his big brown eyes. “Are you cold, Catelyn, my love?” he asked, in a kind voice.

Catelyn shook her head, yet continued trembling through anticipation. “No,” she whispered, as she felt Jon remove his finger, which was replaced by a quick, wet, curious tongue. “Oh...” she exclaimed, feeling Jon’s lips explore her a little further. He had found her clit, hard and swollen, and he began gently sucking her, wringing out groans of pleasure from her. “Jon...” she whispered, her fingers carding through his hair, trying not to pull too hard. She felt his tongue probe deeply inside of her, darting in and out teasingly as he sucked at her. His hands gripped her hips, nails digging into her skin, as he concentrated on administering her satisfaction.

Jon gave the woman a devilish look, watching her flushed face, eyes half-shut, lips parted. He felt her move her hips closer to him in desperation, thighs pulled willingly apart, so he sucked a little harder, moved his tongue a little faster against her. So, apparently she _loved_ him, after all these years of neglect. Why did she not tell him sooner? He could have been doing this to her night after night, if she had so desired. Never having gone behind his father’s back before, the thought of having his way with this beautiful woman turned him on in a way he had never felt. He was glad to experience the love of a good woman before he resigned himself to a life of celibacy, delighted to take what was his.

“Oh...” Catelyn sighed, trying to keep herself quiet, her shaky fingers gripping the sheets tightly, as she felt herself shudder through her orgasm. “Ohh... Jon...you sweet, sweet man!” she said, through her shudders. Looking down at him, she reached down and softly stroked his hair, brushing away the strands that were stuck to his perspiring forehead. “Thank you so much.”

“Any time, my lady,” Jon said, with a small smile. He reached for Catelyn’s hand and placed a kiss upon her knuckles. “You truly are a beautiful woman.”

Catelyn looked at him, adoration in her eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered, as she felt Jon’s warm body snuggle close to hers, blankets being pulled around her, his lips upon her skin, trailing down from the spot just below her ear, down her jaw, to her neck. She sucked in her breath as she felt his teeth scrape against her thin flesh. “Please,” she said seriously, but amusement sparkled in her eyes. “Do not mark me. Eddard cannot know... no one can know.”

Jon withdrew apologetically. “I’m sorry, my lady,” he purred, settling down next to her. He was silent for a moment, stroking Catelyn’s hand as she squeezed him gently in return. “I’m going to miss you,” he said with a sigh.

Catelyn smiled back, curling Jon’s hair behind his right ear with her free hand. “At least you go to the Wall... a man,” she whispered. She exhaled, trying to conceal her sorrow. “I’m so proud of you, Jon,” she told him.

“For what?” Jon asked cheekily, thinking she was speaking of what had just passed between them. He blushed as he realised she was speaking of the kind, gentle, self-sacrificing man he had become. “Oh...” He reached to help himself to Catelyn’s lips. “Thank you, my lady.” He paused. “Catelyn?”

“Hmm?”

“Will you... will you stay with me tonight?” he asked, feeling a little embarrassed as he gave her a pleading look.

Instantly Catelyn agreed. How could she deny him when he gave her that stare? “Of course I will,” she said, already searching her mind for an alibi. She knew this day would never come again; she would not be granted another chance to be alone with Jon like this. She wanted to make the most of it. Wrapping her arms around him she watched as he sleepily closed his eyes, and listened, ear at his chest, to his steady breathing, heart beating slowly.

“I love you,” she told him, kissing his cheek before closing her own eyes, allowing herself to drift off in his arms.

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this post](http://dirtygot.tumblr.com/post/78677970800) from Tumblr. I humbly apologise. It seemed like a good idea at the time.


End file.
